


Couriers, Dreams and a Head Filled With Lead

by nuclear_noob



Series: Courier Six: Dusty [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclear_noob/pseuds/nuclear_noob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On October 11th 2281, a package Courier hired by the Mojave Express was to deliver a platinum-encrusted chip all the way to New Vegas. All for 250 caps.</p><p>Some caps to spend on getting drunk and overrall having a good time...<br/>... Definitely not worth being kidnapped and thrown into a grave.</p><p> </p><p>At least he gets two free 9mm bullets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Couriers, Dreams and a Head Filled With Lead

**Author's Note:**

> A small disclaimer: I don't own Fallout: New Vegas, Bethesda Studios does!

It was nighttime on that hill.  
All you could hear on that night were the whispers of men and iron hitting dirt.

Dusty could've seen New Vegas from there- beautiful, even in his current situation- had he not been knocked out, bound, gagged and subsequently blindfolded and dragged all the way up there.

As he slowly gained consciousness, he began to hear the voices of his captors arguing near him.

"You got what you were after, so pay up!"  
"You're crying in the rain, pally."

He finally regained his vision, and tried to wiggle his way out of his restraints.  
A way to get out that doesn't involve dying? Nope.  
The Courier looks up at the men who took him.

There's a man in a checkered coat, hand on what appears to be a modified 9mm pistol. On its side was the image of a woman- whoever she was, the mailman didn't have a clue.  
Arguing with him are two men; both are wearing black and white leather jackets and bandannas. One appears to be dark-skinned; the other had a Mohawk and was carrying a shovel.

Shovel-man saw him. "Guess who's waking up over here?" The other men ceased their conversation and looked at him, too.  
The checkered man smokes his cigarette, and promptly pats it out with his foot. " Time to cash out."  
"Would you get it over with?" said the first gang member.  
"Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, 'ya dig'?"

So this is the end. Not exactly what was expected...

The checkered-coated man looks back at the Courier, and brings out his package: a platinum-plated poker chip.  
"You've made your last delivery, kid. Years of hard work to get to New Vegas. All gone to waste. The man proceeds to put the chip back into his coat pocket.  
"Sorry you got twisted up in the scene."

250 caps to spend on getting piss drunk and broke was not worth it.

He proceeds to retrieve his pistol, loading it up. "From where you're kneeling it must seem like an eighteen-carat run of bad luck..." 

The gun's barrel is directed towards his face. Death?

"...Truth is... The game was rigged from the start." Definitely death. 

The man pulls the trigger; and the gunshots ring through the starry night.

And just like that, Dusty hears nothing but a peaceful silence.


End file.
